


The Kind of Trouble I Enjoy

by patentpending



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: First Meetings, Flirting, Meet-Cute, Other, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 12:23:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13294806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patentpending/pseuds/patentpending
Summary: In your defense, you didn't normally go to the store at three in the morning.  Also in your defense, you couldn't just let that gorgeous engineer take the last box of Captain Crunch.





	The Kind of Trouble I Enjoy

In your defense, you didn't normally go to the store at three in the morning. You had been house sitting for a friend, but when the midnight munchies hit, nothing could stop you from devouring the last of the Captain Crunch. Unfortunately, your friend was coming back the next day- or, later that day, at this point. You had once seen her tackle a man for a plate of cheesy fries; no way you were going to be the one to get on the wrong side of that stomach.

You stared with bleary eyes at the otherworldly land scape that was Wal-Mart after midnight. The florescent lights cast a surreal, too-bright sheen over the colorful displays and flashy advertisements. 

Skirting around the tribute to American consumerism, you took a plastic basket and shuffled, steering clear of other zombie-eyed shoppers and employees who were far too wake for three am, towards the isle of sugary “balanced breakfasts.”

You stood at the end of the isle and scanned listlessly for the glorious blue box of high fructose corn syrup (and added ingredients), frowning when you didn't see one. You briefly considered returning to a warm bed and enduring your friend’s telenovela-worthy dramatics. But wait- Score. There was one left. 

You ambled towards the crunchy object of your desires before quite literally stumbling in surprise. At the far end of the isle, a vision in overalls had appeared. You sped up for a closer look.

You felt slightly breathless, the last dredges of sleep knocked away by this stranger’s appearance. She stood a few inches shorter than you, but carried herself with a confidence that could only come from not sparing a single thought to what others thought of her. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a spiky style, accented by the various pencils (and a screwdriver??) sticking out of it. Her face seemed composed entirely of angles: a sharp, high nose; pointed, rosy lips; precise cheekbones that looked as if someone had taken hours to sculpt them; and piercing blue eyes staring at—

Wait.

No.

The angel in oil-stained overalls and a crop top was staring directly at the solitary box of Captain Crunch.

You jolted into action as she started strolling down the isle. Surely she wasn't-? You tested your theory, picking up speed as you practically jogged down the improbably long isle. She seemed to catch wind of your intentions, those eyes, alight with the promise of a challenge, darting over to you. You ignored the surge of warmth that flooded your cheeks and moved faster. By now, the two of you were sprinting, full force towards the lone box of cereal.

You dove for it, releasing a maniacal cackle as you pulled it towards you-

And it stayed in place.

Your eyes followed your arm down towards the blue box, across its shiny, scrumptious surface, and up another surprisingly muscular forearm and bicep, before making eye contact with the beautiful woman that stood between you and a direly needed replacement Crunch. The two of you stood, staring in a half-incredulous, half-challenging manner. She decided to break the silence first.

“Yeah, I need this.” She make a ticking sound with her mouth and shrugged in a manner that would have been apologetic if she wasn't smirking. 

You made a savage retort that somehow came out as a high squeaking sound.

“What's that, babe?” The blonde was eyeing your hand, as if trying to calculate how likely it was she could grab the box and run.

“I…” You snapped your gaze away from the smudge of oil on her cheek and stopped mentally debating the health hazard of licking it off. It didn't matter that her face was literally perfect (you were pretty sure it would fit DaVinci’s golden ratio). This woman was trying to steal the box of Captain Crunch guilt and a fear of jalapeño seeds dropped in your food had dragged you out of bed at a time most decent people would be sleeping. This could not stand. 

You steeled yourself, glaring with a single-minded determination into those blue eyes. “I need it more.”

“Highly doubt that, babe.” She arched an eyebrow.

“That's not my name.” 

“Well, what is it then?” 

You told her, and she repeated it thoughtfully, rolling the sound around in her mouth before releasing it with a lazy flick of her tongue.

“Then tell me,” She leaned closer, tugging on the box connecting the box between you meaningfully. “How you could possibly need this more than I need it as a possible fuel source for-” She paused dramatically and you started to reconsider every life choice that had led to this moment. “A proton stream ghost cage!” She waited expectantly, as if for you to ask what it was, but continued, nonplussed, when you didn't. “It's a new design for a device that will not ensnare but also allow any paranormal entity to observed.”

You stared blankly. It was way too early for this. “I ate all of a tiny, angry Latina’s cereal.”

She laughed, a squawking, free thing. You were immediately enchanted. “Only one way to settle this, then.”

You fleetingly prayed she was taking about the pocky game.

She put one well-muscled arm into the air, her hand cupped slightly. “Arm wrestling contest.”

You stared at her (it seemed to be a running theme). She met your gaze with a cocky smirk and an arched eyebrow. 

“Fine.” You gritted out, dragging her by the cereal box to a shelf you could rest your elbows on. “But can you at least tell me your name before we start holding hands?”

She flushed unexpectedly, and you were momentarily mesmerized by the soft pink that spread across her face. “Holtzmann,” she said. “Jillian Holtzmann.”

“Well, Jillian Holtzmann.” You put the cereal box under your elbows and clasped her warm, calloused hand in your own. “You're going down.”

A look of surprised delight crossed her features as you both steeled yourselves. “On your mark…” She droned in an astonishingly accurate interpretation of a NASCAR announcer. “Get set…” Her hand clamped tighter in yours as something alive and gleeful flashed in her eyes. “Go.”

You both threw yourselves into the challenge, straining against each other, fueled by determination, and, just maybe, the hope of impressing the other. You struggled in silence until you felt your elbow start to slip as Holtzmann pressed her sudden advantage. “Wait- Wait!” You shouted in a jolt of panic, but it was too late. She barred her arm down on yours with a wild victory cry— making the cereal box shoot out from underneath your elbows, smashing into the opposite shelf with a ferocious crunch. 

“Maybe it's still good?” You offered weakly.

The cereal box popped open and sprayed a shower of over-proceeded sugary squares across the linoleum floor. 

“Well dang-dang-diggedy-dang-a-dang-de-dang.” Holtzmann murmured, observing the Captain’s massacre with a half-incredulous grin. She turned to you, and you were forcefully reminded that your hands were still joined. “I’ve got the feeling you're the kind of trouble I enjoy.”

In the end, the two of you went to the 24-hour convenience store around the corner.

You can only remember it in flashes, afterward. The sudden knowledge someone could look good under the aggressive spewing of artificial light. Something you said that made her laugh. A winding conversation that bounced from topic to topic, with no discernible pattern, but both of you keeping up effortlessly. Her sly grin. Her warm hand in yours.

You both swung twin plastic bags as you stepped out into the concrete jungle outside. 

“Can I walk you home?” She asked. A cocky smirk played on her lips, but you could see the thin veneer of anxiety hiding behind her eyes.

“Yes,” You murmured breathlessly, feeling like you were agreeing to much more.

You took the long way home until it was inevitable. 

“This is me,” You said, coming to stop on the pavement. You skidded a toe across the pavement, afraid to look up. “Look, I know this may be kinda weird, but- would you want to grab coffee sometime? With me? I mean obviously with me, you can go get your own coffee whenever you want, but I was hoping-”

Holtzmann placed a hand on your wrist. Your blabber cut off immediately, and you wondered at how warm her hands were. “I'll do you one better.” Her blue eyes were alight with amusement (and something you didn't recognize until many years and many dates and many anniversaries later). 

“Dinner? I know a great Chinese place.” 

(Love.)

**Author's Note:**

> Catch the Heathers reference for 10 points to your Hogwarts house.


End file.
